


we shall ne'er be younger

by writingtofly



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Light Angst, Modern Westeros, Sex Education vibes kind of, Sexual orientation exploration, inspired by my main fic, plot bunny to rev up my creative juices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26649613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtofly/pseuds/writingtofly
Summary: Set in modern Westeros, Robb Stark is an up-and-coming football/soccer star in his posh, private high-school but to his shock, fails two of his subjects, putting his future football career in jeopardy. In order for him to qualify to play in the matches, he needs to pass and Principal Baratheon assigns him a peer tutor, Ayana, to help him boost up his grades, but in secret. Robb is too proud to take help, and Ayana doesn't take shit from him. How will they interact, clash, become friends and more through all the cliché and not-so-cliché high school-tropey drama? Inspired by my main fic that’s taking a bit too long to flesh out :)
Relationships: Robb Stark/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Oranges

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Wolf’s Song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20085682) by [writingtofly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtofly/pseuds/writingtofly). 



This was happening, this was real. _Shit_ , Robb cursed himself, with knots curling in his stomach, as he currently faced the grim face of Principal Baratheon, while he sifted through all his past year’s exam papers and the most recent ones, two of which he had, to put it mildly, tanked. You see, Robb wasn’t used to this. He was the perfect son, an idol for his siblings, just naturally great at everything. Everyone knew it, he knew it. So this, this was new. How did he even get here? 

“Hmm. So, Mr. Stark, I see your past records have been quite exemplary. From maths to chemistry to economics, but you have been quite pulled back this semester I believe. Barely passing the subjects I just mentioned, and failing in history and political science. Now, for an overachieving all-rounder like you, this is quite…embarrassing.”

_Ouch_.

“Sir, it’s just…I haven’t had the time. I’ve been training, you can ask Coach Davos! You see, scouts are coming, from FC Wolfswood, to watch me play the next few matches, and if I impress them, they could select me to play in the Northern League-!”

Not much impressed Stannis Baratheon and this didn’t seem to either. “Mr. Stark, the scouts coming here concerns us as well. This might be a private school renown for its academics, but we encourage our students to pursue whatever path they wish. However, there are still rules. Even for accomplished boys such as you. The rule states that if you are part of the school sports team, you are required to not just barely pass, but at least attain seventy-percent in each of your chosen subjects. Now, I could give you a leeway for the subjects you did pass, but the two that you failed, I am sorry but you can no longer be part—”

“NO!" Robb exclaimed sharply, but quickly changed his demeanour at the thunderous expression of Stannis Baratheon. "I mean—sir, I swear I will make up for the grades, I—I will ask for extra assignments, sit with my teachers for extra hours and-and retake the exams even, but please! I need. To be. On the field. You can talk to Coach Davos, or my parents for that matter.”

Soon as Robb said that, the principal took his phone and left his office, while he waited in anticipation, not knowing if he was speaking to his coach or his parents. Robb waited for him to come back in five minutes, having already made up his mind about ending Robb’s career as a league player before it even began. But twenty minutes passed, he still wasn't here. Robb pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his notifications. One was from Margaery, his girlfriend, telling him about the ‘soiree’ at her place, one from his mum telling him to pick up Rickon from his fencing classes and one from—

“So”, he announced as he walked in half an hour after he'd left, “from what Mr. Davos has told me, you are quite the promising sportsman.” At that, Robb instantly heaved a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. “But he also agrees that bypassing the rules set out by the school board entirely is simply not an option.” All his manly bravado had disappeared by this point. He was swallowing rapidly, so the tears that had settled in his eyes wouldn’t roll down his face. But the principal wasn’t finished yet, “So to circumvent the rules, we have come up with a solution. There is a peer-tutor volunteer group, they generally help students who have difficulty with comprehension and reading—”

“Yes! I’ll volunteer, no prob—”

“You won’t be the one volunteering. A peer tutor will be assigned to _you_ , to help you make up for the lag in your studies, keep you on track, take your biweekly tests, until you can retake these same exams, and we will then readjust your previous grades accordingly. You must also appreciate the exceptions we are making for you here. Not just because of your previous stellar records but precisely because we want you to be successful. In all your endeavours.” And look good in front of league football scouts, Robb thought sardonically.

“Also, this provision…is not entirely…above board, so to speak. So, it would be wise if you didn’t discuss us making this kind of an exception for you with anyone."

For a moment, once his excitement had slightly abated, Robb wondered, if this was going to be so complicated, why the principal and the coach were making such an exception for him. Because of his father? Because they wanted to save face as a school that prided its reputation as a semi-Citadel (the top university in the country)? And on top of everything, this guy was acting like Robb was completely inept, needing a special aid just ‘cause he failed _two_ tests. _What in the seven hells,_ Robb thought, aggravated.

“Sir, I am not…slow. I know how to get good grades, I just need to manage my time better, is all.”

“Yes. And this person will help you do that.” As Robb opened his mouth for further rebuttal, which Principal Baratheon quickly shut down, “This is the only way we can allow you to keep playing, Mr. Stark. If your results show that you are as devoted to your studies as you are to other extracurricular activities, you could play in front of the scouts. And not to mention, if that path doesn't work out, you would always have academics to fall back on to. Ultimately, we are looking out for your future.” 

“And we also prize our reputation, Mr. Stark, as a school known for producing exceptional students who go on to become lawyers, professors, scientists and doctors. However, if you are to be a…footballer, we’ll make sure you are at least not a dim one…”

While the principal went on giving a sermon on his thoughts on striking the right balance between academics and extracurricular activities, Robb was cursing his parents internally for putting him in this posh, nerd-school in the first place, — a school which shouldn't have had a sports department to begin with, if it was going to be so anti…sports — when he saw a girl walk in the empty reception area, through the principal’s open door.

“Ah yes, there she is.” Baratheon beckoned her to come inside and Robb saw the most horrifying thing — he had a tiny fraction of a smile pasted on his face. “Ms. Frey, thank you for volunteering to be Robb’s peer-tutor on such short notice.”

With a beaming smile she responded, “It’s no problem, sir. I’d be happy to help in any way.” Robb knew of her—her name was Ayana. He had seen her in a few of his classes and apart from hearing her speak in class a few times, there wasn’t much he could remember about her. Sure, she must be a straight-A student (who wasn't here), but so was Robb. Or he was until this debacle fest anyway. He didn’t need a tutor, that too someone his own age. He just had to get through this, play in the next few matches and wait for the scouts to show up and select him and he would be out of here so fast…

As Robb made plans in his head, she took a seat beside him, pulled out a diary and began taking notes as if this was sixth period, discussing _him_ with the principal, while _he_ was sitting right there. He decided he would tune it all out until someone directly spoke _to_ him.

“…so every Wednesday and Friday, you both meet for two hours, Ayana will help you with history on one day and political science the next, until you are ready to retake your finals. You are also expected to study for your other subjects in your own time. But if we find you slacking in them as well, then —”

“Yeah, yeah, no football for Robb, got it.” He glanced sideways expecting a chuckle or a smile from the girl beside, but she seemed as unimpressed as the principal.

“Mr. Stark, forget football, you will be expelled. If you fail in the finals as well.”

Robb felt like he could breathe again as soon as he stepped out of the principal’s office. He thought about calling his father but realised he wouldn't take his side on this either. Better if he took some laps before heading back home and facing everyone’s over-the-top shocked faces. At least Arya would understand. Marg would for sure, freak. But that was the beauty of this arrangement, Robb reminded himself snidely, since this was to be his secret, shameful affair. Striding through the vacant school hallways, just as he was about to reach his locker, he noticed the footsteps that had been trying to keep up with him. He turned and found himself facing her, Ayana; with hair tied in a topknot, height barely reaching his shoulders, and panting.

“Hey, sorry didn't mean to be all stalker-chaser, but I just wanted to confirm if the schedule was okay with you..? You didn’t say anything in there so…”

“Well mum and dad were talking _so_ , didn't want to interrupt…” Seeing her dumbfounded expression, he gave her a straight answer, “...Yeah, Wednesdays and Fridays after school. It’s fine.”

“Great! We can rendezvous after school at the library then.” That wide smile again, almost forceful. She only seemed to react when he wasn’t trying to be funny (and not wasting her time probably). Not that he was trying to be, but passive-aggressive sarcasm was generally his MO during his bad days, so everyone around him would be bearing his snide remarks for the next couple of days. Without ever finding out the reason why.

“Great!” Robb echoed her sneeringly. “Can’t wait!”

Snatching his bag from the locker and smashing the door shut loudly, he zipped right past her. However after a few seconds too late, he realised he’d just been kind of a dick to someone who had stayed an extra hour after school just to help him. But when he turned around, she was already gone, with only a mild scent of oranges hanging in the air.


	2. Upper Hand

_Arsehole,_ Ayana mouthed at him, as Robb Stark shoved his locker door in her face and stomped past her, after showing _her_ attitude for helping _him._ Why did she choose to stay back after school today, Ayana asked herself with regret, as she also stomped out the exit that was closest (the ‘football star’ had decided to take the longer way back in all his huffiness).

Mr. Davos, the school’s football coach, or as she knew him as her kind-neighbour-who-she-couldn't-say-no-to, had found her in the library and asked if she could help a boy in need. Ayana had thought the boy would be — well, a _boy_. But when she’d entered the principal's reception, from the ajar door, she’d seen the sadly-hunched, athletic person of one Robb Stark, glaring at the wall behind Mr. Baratheon, who was giving one of his sermons.

He was such a stereotype – Royally descended, a jock with a heart-of-gold, born-perfect at everything. Ugh, she rolled her eyes inwardly. Ayana had never paid him much attention, aside from maybe checking him out once or twice (she wasn’t blind, he was conventionally _very_ good looking). He also laughed really loud, in this hiccup-y, obnoxious way that just drew everyone’s attention to him. As she’d walked in the principal’s line of vision, Robb’s head had turned first, directing all of his wall-glaring at her instead.

The principal, as gruff as he was, had always been vaguely kind to her, but often in a patronising sort of way – like he expected her to be grateful for being here. Her aunt Ellaria, or Aunt El as Ayana referred to her, once pointed out that it was the place that he hailed from (the Stormlands) that made him so “fucking grim”. But Ayana remarked that almost everyone _here_ was grim, and broody, since it was so damn cold here. All. The. Time.

Not like she knew much different. Ayana had spent most of her life here. When she was barely a few months old, her mother had moved them to Winterfell for some reason, only for her to die shortly, and asking her super-old and super-rich father to look after her — who did provide for her through nannies, but growing up around his legitimate children who constantly bullied her had grown taxing. So one day, when she was nine years old, she asked her father to contact her mother’s family – her grandfather and aunt, who when they found out about her existence, instantly came to see her. But since she was a citizen of the north, moving to the south, especially for someone born after the civil war that had split the states of the old Union of Westeros, was difficult. So, Aunt El had dropped everything at Dorne, assumed Ayana’s guardianship and moved to Winterfell with her, just like her sister had.

But as northern as Ayana was legally, her blood didn’t feel northern. She was always frightfully cold, even during the so-called summers. When everyone around dressed in skirts and khaki shorts, she still wore leggings and sweaters. Her friend, Ygritte, whose family came from beyond the Wall, could wear a bikini even in the dead of winter of the ‘southern north’, as she called it. Ultimately, all this left Ayana standing out too often, much to her dismay.

She couldn’t wait to leave this land of the ‘Others’. Hopefully, she could apply for university in Dorne, or King’s Landing, or maybe even dare to apply to the Citadel in the Reach. Or if she was feeling really ambitious, apply to the old universities of Essos. This dilemma was precisely why she’d been spending some extra time in the library, going through hundreds of college brochures, and scholarship application requirements, when she was assigned this ‘task’.

It’s fine, it’s fine, Ayana had kept chanting in her head, as Principal Baratheon had recited the rules of this whole…business. She’d signed up for the peer-tutor group to build her résumé, and this would only give her more advantage. She was just going to grin and bear it.

But when the privileged arse had basically smashed the locker door in her face, she was already regretting the entire thing.

Sitting on the bus on her way back home, Ayana almost texted Ygritte to tell her the day she'd had – when she realised she couldn't. Of course it wasn't _that_ serious, the whole keeping this business hush. But Ayana wasn't going to risk it. She couldn't afford being suspended, or worse, expelled. Too much money had gone down the drain, so to speak, for that to happen.

Without realising, she found herself scrolling through Robb’s socials – his obsession with football was readily apparent through his posts of wishing his favourite footballers on their birthdays. There were some photos of him at Greyjoy's parties, some with his humongous dogs, and then some really curated ones with his girlfriend, that one could tell Margaery had forced him to post and caption them accordingly and oooh–there were two of him training, all sweaty and— 

_Stop,_ Ayana chastised herself internally, reminding herself that she couldn't have a crush on him, especially right now when she would be around him so frequently. Yes, he was hot – the fit body and the jawline and the eyes, yada yada, but he was definitely shallow, and not smart, and of course, rude. She focused on those aspects to not start feeling anything for him. Just because he looked good in his tight jerseys did not mean he was attractive. It would be just like her to develop a crush on him and then embarrass herself by stuttering or giggling too much. Ugh, why did physically attractive people make her so goddamn nervous, she wondered haplessly. She desperately needed an upper hand till tomorrow.

Once settled in her home after dinner and ready for bed, she wondered if texting him to confirm their meet-up tomorrow would come across as too eager, considering they weren’t following each other, when suddenly her phone dinged with a notification—

_‘robbstar_ liked your post’_

–but when she clicked on it, there was nothing. The post was from five months ago which made Ayana realise he was definitely phone-stalking her. And since he didn’t follow her, he must’ve looked her up, then scrolled through her feed, accidently liked a post and then quickly un-liked it. She couldn’t help but snigger under the covers but also quickly chided herself because it could’ve just as easily happened to her. But at least now, she had that upper hand.

She couldn’t wait for tomorrow now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to myself I will not write this further until I publish a chapter on my first fic, I swear, I swearrrr

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hellooo. So, I don’t know what I'm doing. I am supposed to be writing my main fic but the filler chapters have just been so hard to write and I can’t just skip them either, ugh! SO, I thought I would explore these characters in a different setting because I just want to write Robb and my OC together so bad and need my creative juices flowing. Idk if this will be a long fic yet, because I don’t want to give away my character traits that I have planned for my main fic, in this one. Hopefully getting this AU out of my head will help me actually write the other one, instead of just jotting down infinite plot bunnies and never writing them out. Thank you to whoever even reads this :)


End file.
